


Spot

by SweetTale4u



Category: The Big Bang Theory (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-30 21:42:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1023723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetTale4u/pseuds/SweetTale4u
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Penny and Sheldon. One Shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spot

A/N: This is another short drabble. It is for those that enjoy reading my stories and take time to review, thank you for your kind words. Your reviews make my heart sing.

Warning, this is very angst, I am just practicing this type of writing as I am not very good at it, but it seems people like drama.

**Spot**

Open your eyes woman. She lay in bed after another night of doing absolutely nothing but wallowing in her sorrows.

There was a spot on her ceiling.

Sheldon had a spot.

She was beginning to wish she was his spot.

Heavy

Her arms were heavy. She fought valiantly against the sleep that threatened to overcome her again. To pull her into her nightmares, in the unfulfilled dreams of promised ecstasy, of fame and fortune that eluded her.

Inertia.

It was her enemy as she fiercely battled against it to get out of bed.

Alas, she had made it out of her sheets that now lay tangled at her feet. It was so odd to feel triumphant over something as menial as getting out of bed.

Gaunt

Her eyes were not hers. The girl that stared at her from the mirror was a shadow of her former self. What were once luscious fields of summer kissed locks were now strands from a heavily used broom.

Dry

Her lips were desolate. Like a desert in the noon sun, she tried to moisten them but the drought came from within, there was not enough water to satiate that thirst.

Revulsion

She despised herself, her life, what she had become. Her life was a swirling vortex of entropy as Sheldon quickly discovered the first few days after meeting her. The only thing that was constant in her life was the pain, the nothingness, the greyness. It was there always, reminding her of all she hadn’t accomplished, her failures. She secretly wished she would lose her looks, and become unrecognizable, at least that way she would have an excuse as to why she hadn’t accomplished anything and she could simply slink away into the nothingness that was enveloping her life.

Filthy

The water from the shower feels like an onslaught, tiny fists beating against her, working to try and scrub away the shame and dirt that covered her soul. She never felt clean enough, not even the alcohol would help. This is what it feels like, she said to herself, when you do something you know is wrong.

Cacophony

4A was full of sounds and words, most of which she couldn’t make out. The darkness beckoned her again, tempting her to be his mistress. She felt its cold grip pulling her closer, caressing her soul, her mind, as the voices in the room became more distant.

Another voice however broke through the nothing, called out to her. It was his voice, Sheldon. His mouth dripped with consternation and dread as his eyes met the hollow of what were once deep pools of green wonder and delight.

Her autopilot answered a smile and a nod of the head. She had become a master of deception, a charlatan. Her face was not hers, she was gone, but the face that greeted them was cheery and oblivious of anything. Even when Leonard’s kisses had fallen on her lips he had not managed to undue the chill that crept up from within her threatening to finish her off.

When he proposed, she said no. She was no one’s wife. She was no one.

As the week’s passed and the charade that was their experiment, came to an end much as it had previously. Except this time there were no tears on her end. Those tears were long since shed. She had none left for him; she didn’t even have any for herself.

Sheldon had not boasted this time. He had been right after all, he was always right. He had been the guy, he had been right. His silence spoke volumes longer and more detailed than the texts that lined the walls of his living room.

Shadows

There were shades of shame and sympathy that crossed his porcelain face as he looked at her. Had he known what she was thinking? He seems to see her pain and sorrow like equations on his whiteboard. Did he see what she saw, how it was coming up all around her? Threatening to end it all?

She could not stand that look. She yelled at him, she would not have him feel sorry for her. Like he was any better than her? With his routines, his schedules, his fear. He was just as bad as her. Who was he to judge her? She slurred her words. Didn’t he know that the thirst was ever present? Didn’t he see her dry lips and dead eyes?

Didn’t he see her as she did?

No. He didn’t see anything she yelled. He flinched, afraid of her words, her flailing arms. Memories of his dad reared their head. His father’s beatings, his rejection, his shame at him, didn’t his father know it wasn’t his fault, he didn’t ask to be born this way.

Get out; she didn’t want to see him look at her like that. Reprimanding her with his stance, his words and his shiny veneer which only served to cover up the fact he was a bucket full of broken parts, just like she was. She felt like kicking out all the windows, lighting fire to her life [1]. She was tired, so tired. She just wanted to dream, to escape this nightmare of reality.

Darkness

There was nothing. She gasped for air and her lungs filled with sand. Her arms were heavy. She wondered about the spot on her ceiling. She couldn’t see it anymore. Red blood bleeding from her now, it feels like cold blue ice in her heart.

Maybe now she could dream.

Shattering

Her heart hurt; so much pain. The sand replaced with air as his words screamed to her, his air became hers, his words her name and her name, an incantation, a prayer on his lips. Why was he yelling, why was he crying, he never cried in her dreams.

Warm

Drops fell on her face. They weren’t hers this time. Her hand wasn’t heavy as she lifted it to his face, to wipe the sadness from his face. Don’t cry moonpie, she whispered…

Her eyelids were heavy, her hands heavy again.

Of course he saw her, he saw everything about her and that was why he loved her so much, his words calling her back to him, threatening to shatter the sound barrier, to rip thru the fabric of time.

Don’t leave me please, he cried as he cradled her body. Her sun kissed locks of hair, her beautiful lips he kissed. She was his spot, his everything, his unified theory of everything.

He called out for help, why wouldn’t anyone help him. Didn’t they know that time was being wasted; time was so precious, not as precious as her. He could see the grains of sand slipping through the hourglass of her life; he fought in vain to stop them, each one slipping through his fingers easier than the one before.

There was no fear, no routines, and no logic, there was only her. Didn’t she know she was everything to him? His words called to her begging and pleading.

Shame

There was so much he needed to say. Empty words from his friends filled his ears. All the talking he had done and he had not managed to say anything to her. Only in those few moments, as he fought to keep her with him, was he able to shed the coat of uncertainty he had worn his entire life. He was not worthy of her.

The others were in disbelief. Get some rest, go home, she will be fine. Their words fell on deaf ears. There was no point to a relationship agreement or a roommate one, so they both became void. There was nothing but Rm614 Intensive Care.

Everyone had moved on. The hands on the clock had no meaning, time had ceased to exist. He touched the beard that was creeping onto his face as he stared at the whiteboard in her hospital room. He had become a permanent resident. The colors of his markers seem to blend to grey under the cold lights of the room.

Talk to me, tell me you hear me. He begged to her. Her tear stained sheets changed daily, erasing the evidence of his pleas and confessions, of his shame and regret.

Recall

Remember when you fell in the shower? He reminded her that he would pay for her to have the tattoo corrected. He made her a promise. He pointed to the laptop by her bed; I have ordered you the ducks for your tub. He had never wanted to have soup so bad in his life.

I will get my license I promise and I will take us someplace on a trip. Would you like that? He brushed her hair back; his finger lingered on her beautiful face.

Stumbling through her memories, she says nothing of what she feels.

Anger

Why did you do it Penny? Why hadn’t he done something sooner? Why didn’t you tell me? Maybe you did and I didn’t listen, is this punishment, if it was, he deserved it. Why? Why? Why? There were always more questions than answers.

His mother came. She pled with him to get some help. To let it be.

The only help he needed lay on that bed far from his grasp. Go away mother, he yelled. Please pray for her he begged as she left, his own prayers he feared were falling on deaf ears as too many years of mocking God and the universe were now collecting their due. His desperation pulled the tears from Mary’s face.

Hope

I know you moved your hand, I know you can hear me. If you wake up I promise I will let you take me dancing, and you know that I do not dance. I will give you anything you want.

I have rented a house, I think you will like it, I haven’t been to it but the email shows that it is very aesthetically pleasing. Maybe you can stay with me there. You have to wake up though Penny; I cannot have you sleeping through the move. I will need your Nebraskan grit and strength to help me with my comic books and your… well that would be if you wished…His voice cut off. Hope was a dangerous thing. I have been on my own for too long Penny; I do not know how to be what you need me to be, if I had been I would have seen your cries, your pain.  

Silence

There were no more tears. No more words. No plans, there was only silence. She could hear his breathing feel his heavy hands on hers, his head by her leg. There was no spot on this ceiling. But he was in his.

I was just having a nap; it was a wonderful dream she said to the nurse checking her signs.

Let him sleep she whispered, it’s his turn he whispered.

Caress

Her hand moved through his thick and long hair. The moans of delight that escaped his mouth caressed her neck and sent chills down her body, his body pressed into hers, the warmth of his love erasing the loneliness, his passion igniting a light in her and setting fire to her soul. The darkness was gone. His arms surrounded her, pulling her closer to him, into him, around him.

Quenching one thirst, but releasing another, replacing one need with another. Unleashing a floodgate of emotion, it threatened to drown them. A tide they welcomed, to drown in their love, to not feel the rain beating against the window.

Rebirth

Her hands erased the pain, removed the bruises and shame. The shining bands tangled together in their sheets, intertwined, never parting. No longer did the shadows of his past haunt him; no longer would he face them alone. Her body was his temple, his prayers never went unanswered. He was whole, his soul no longer broken, his heart complete. Their life filled with color.

He had found his spot.

 

 


End file.
